


first birthday

by killmongersgurl



Series: dadmonger [5]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 17:23:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17026929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killmongersgurl/pseuds/killmongersgurl





	first birthday

The sudden chill that wafted into your bedroom and over your body woke you up that evening, a strange coldness that you rarely ever felt when N’Jadaka slept with his strong arms wrapped around your waist. You pulled the covers closer to yourself, swaddling your body within them. You awaited that distinct sucking of his teeth, followed by a grumbled complaint about how you always steal the covers as his grip on your waist grew firm and he pulled you flush against his chest, using you as his personal human body heater.

_Silence._

There was no sucking of teeth, no grumbling and soft cussing, and no strong arms pulling you close.

You touched your phone and glanced at the screen:  _11:45 PM._

A soft and questioning groan slipped past your lips as you reached a hand out to touch the space behind you, the space that he should have been occupying, only to find this very spot empty and a bit cool. You contemplated going back to sleep versus getting up and out of bed to find him. It wasn’t like he couldn’t handle himself if he was in trouble—he went by  _Killmonger_ for a considerably large portion of his life, for goodness’ sake. But he’d left his phone on the nightstand, and he never just left without his phone or without telling you anything first.

“This nigga’s always doing something,” you muttered to yourself with a roll of your eyes. You shoved the covers aside, stepped out of the bed, and slipped your feet into your sandals as you made your way out of your bedroom to begin your search. “Can’t stand his ass. Side of the bed all cold. How the hell  _I’ma_ sleep if  _he_ ain’t—“

The distinct sound of his low voice coming from your daughter’s bedroom caught your ear. You took a moment to watch the door, blinking in confusion as you attempted to understand his muffled words. You managed to catch bits and pieces of what he was saying, a little  _Wakanda_ and  _T’Challa_ there, along with a little  _mommy_  and  _daddy_  here. But when he spoke the words,  _birthday_ and  _N’Jobu_ , your stomach flipped. And not in a good way. N’Jadaka rarely ever spoke about his father.

You pushed the door open and found him leaning over your daughter’s crib. His shoulders jumped a bit and squared, signifying that he knew you were there, but he paid you no mind. Instead, he continued to speak to your sleeping daughter, his voice hushed and delicate so as to not wake her.

“Babe,” you whispered as you approached him. You peeked at the book in his hand, your brows knitting in confusion. “Babe, what are you doing?”

“Gettin’ ready for this little nigga’s birthday.”

“What did I tell you about calling her that?”

“What did I tell you about gender neutral terms?”

You snorted to keep yourself from laughing, but you knew by that smirk on his face that he caught it. So you rested your forearms onto the crib’s bar to join him as he watched your daughter. “What you got planned for this little nigga?”

N’Jadaka looked to you. “Oh, word?”

You met his eyes, arching your brows and playfully daring him to say something smart. “Word.”

A quick smile touched his lips as he moved to kiss your forehead before he resumed watching his daughter. He reached a hand out to pull her shirt over her round belly, but it only slid back up. “Didn’t I tell you we could make a better baby than that big nigga?”

You looked to your daughter with a smile and shrugged. “I never said I didn’t believe you.”

A quiet chuckle slipped past his nostrils. “I got a special gift for her. First, I’ma wake her up at midnight. On the dot.”

“Tuh! After all the hell we went through to get her to sleep?” you countered. “I don’t think this one will be too happy about being woken up in the middle of the night, just for you to wish her a happy birthday.”

“Nah, she’ll be fine.” He breathed in before releasing a heavy sigh, his body sagging a bit as he watched his daughter sleep. “This is what my father did with me. Every birthday I’ve ever had before he… you know.”

You touched his arm, gripping lightly.

“My father would wake me up to wish me a happy birthday, before pulling me onto his lap to tell me a story about Wakanda,” he continued after a moment. He shrugged. “I mean, I’m recognized as a Wakandan now, and so is she, but this is all I got to pass down to her. The only tradition my father left me. And this is my first kid, and it’s her first birthday. Might as well, right?”

You glanced at him before looking to the clock on the wall.  _11:55 PM_ , it read. You placed a kiss onto his shoulder. “You got five minutes left to prepare. Do you know which story you’ll start with?”

He gestured to the book in his hand. “Got it all right here. It was my father’s. I got it all committed to memory, but he read to me. Always. Tradition and all that, you know?” He hesitated and cleared his throat, his eyes passing over your form before he looked to his daughter. “You can stay. If you want.”

“Do you want me to?”

He nodded, with no delay.

A soft smile touched your lips. You wrapped your arms around his own, holding him close as you joined him in watching your daughter. “Thanks for the invite.”

“You better not interrupt me or start cryin’ or some shit when I start.”

“Shut up, nigga, and open your book. It’s 11:59.”


End file.
